Don't Speak, Just Breathe
by Wolf Maid
Summary: Draco/Hermione. AU. " “We found him in time,” she says, and she sounds like she’s trying to convince herself as well as the boy.“We found him in time,” she repeats, but this time she sounds less sure, and the boy shuffles his feet. "


Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story belong to me.

Summary: Draco/Hermione. " "We found him in time," she says, and she sounds like she's trying to convince herself as well as the boy."We found him in time," she repeats, but this time she sounds less sure, and the boy shuffles his feet. "

AN: Because all the Draco/Hermione fics I've read have Ron as a horrible person, and I always saw him wanting the people he loved to be happy. So I started like that, and it turned out like this. Hopefully you'll like. 

…**Just Breathe…**

**i.**

It's light and dark and light and dark as he stares up at the white ceiling and the world slowly moves around him. He thinks he should try to sit up or make some sound or try to distinguish the noises that fade in and out around him but he can't find it in himself to care or strength enough to try.

People sit beside him sometimes, he knows, which doesn't seem to make sense because everyone who ever cared is gone and he isn't even sure if they cared in the first place and no one should be sitting next to him, quietly murmuring and holding his hand. Sometimes he listens and sometimes he forgets how to listen and sometimes he doesn't care enough to try, because even when he does the words fade in and out and he can't remember what he was supposed to be doing.

He does remember that he had something to do, after staring at the white ceiling or the blank walls of his eyelids, although he can't quite remember what. He thinks he should ask someone, but he doesn't know who and he can't remember how and he thinks he's supposed to keep it a secret, maybe, and he doesn't know who he can trust or who would have trusted him.

Sometimes he wonders if the world should be so white and stark and circular, without ending or beginning, or if he should be so blank and empty, without name or past, but he doesn't think he can struggle anymore and _when did he struggle?_ he thinks he should sleep and wait _for what_ and wait _stay silent_ and breathe _don't talk don't think don'tscreamddon'tscreamdon'tscream_ and watch the ceiling hover above him.

**ii.**

The white ceiling hangs like an empty backdrop to the silence. Footsteps enter, or maybe it's just the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.

"How is he?" a boy asks, and his voice is a bit brusque and a bit guilty.

"Pomfrey says he's healed. He should wake up soon, she thinks," the girl answers.

"The—the scars?" the boy asks, and this time he's hesitant.

"They'll fade. She managed to remove some of them but…" the girl's voice breaks. "The ones on his back…well, they'll fade," she finishes, making her voice strong. Determined to ride it out.

"I'm sorry we couldn't find him faster," the boy finally whispers, and he does sound sorry, and guilty, and horrified, and the girl clears her throat carefully.

"We found him in time," she says, and she sounds like she's trying to convince herself as well as the boy. "We found him in time," she repeats, but this time she sounds less sure, and the boy shuffles his feet.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I…he's going to be all right. He's tough, he'll…he'll be all right."

"Why did they…why do people have to be so cruel?" the girl whispers, but she knows there is no answer.

"We'll stop them," the boy promises, honor and faith and truth soaked into his voice, all the standards of good and right and she cuts him off before he can continue—

"No speeches, Harry," she snarls. "Not now, not with him…Harry, he's going to be okay, but…" The silence stretches.

"Why are you here, waiting?" the boy asks at last, and her breath is a little bit quicker, as if she knew this was coming.

"I'm waiting for him to wake up. He deserves that, at least, after…"

"Hermione—"

"He saved my life," she whispers. "He didn't have to do that."

"Don't make it out to be some grand heroic gesture! He's a Malfoy! He did what he did, and I'm thankful for all of it, for saving you and helping the Order but he did it for himself. And that's all well and good but you can't—"

"I'm waiting for him to wake up, Harry. He has no one else. He needs _someone_ to be here for him." Her voice is soft but the boy inhales sharply.

"Don't pity him," he breathes. "I don't know what he deserves, but it's not pity. He'd hate you for it, and I can't say I'd blame him. Respect him, thank him, but never pity him, Hermione. He and I are enough alike for me to know that."

"Harry," she starts, sounding regretful, but the boy interrupts.

"Help him get better, then, Hermione," he snaps, "I'm sorry for what happened to him. No one deserved what those bastards…Dumbledore is waiting for me." He starts to walk away but stops. "I did what I could for him, Hermione. He wanted me to save you first, so I did. I'm sorry they caught him, but he made me swear to keep you safe. He…it was important to him. For that alone I'd have to forgive him, but…it'll take some time for me to trust him. You understand?"

The room spins into silence and either his hearing is failing of the boy has left or everyone's died and the white ceiling above is falling or floating and he closes his eyes.

**iii.**

There's the sound of people coming and going, and someone sits down next to the girl. She's still there, and he's not sure why he can tell, or when it suddenly became so important, but she's there and that's enough. They're quiet for a while, or maybe he's just not listening so well. But he doesn't hear any sounds he can't decipher, just the slow steady sound of breath coming in and coming out.

"So that's the way of it," a boy whispers at last.

"Wh-what do you mean?" the girl asks, but she sounds hesitant and almost afraid of his answer. The boy sighs.

"I love you, you know," the boy mentions, as if in passing, as if he doesn't sound like he's dying. Maybe he is. This is where people come to die.

"Ron—"

"It's probably for the best. I love you with too much affection and not enough passion." The boy laughs, roughly, and the girl makes a strangled little sound that could be a cry or a sob or something equally painful. The boy silences instantly.

"It's all right, 'Mione. I know you didn't mean for this to happen. And it doesn't…it doesn't matter."

"You don't know what you're talking about," she snarls, and the chair creaks as the boy sits back. Two sit and one lay in shock. "Ron, I love you," she manages, and it's not a lie but it is and the boy doesn't respond.

"He isn't good enough by half," the boy says, and then half-laughs. "No one would be though."

"_Ron—_"

"You have to understand. I wouldn't let you go if I wasn't sure he would love you more than the world. But 'Mione…that day…when he…All those months and I'd never seen his mask crack until that moment. If you'd died…" the boy sighs and sits another moment in silence. "I would've told you earlier, but until I was sure he was alive I didn't want to hurt you with hope. You understand?"

"Ron," she whispers, and her voice is full of tears and apologies and truth that the boy stays silent for a long time.

"You deserve love, 'Mione. And if he's…if he's the one you love, then…I just want you to be happy. You understand?" He smiles suddenly, softly. "Why are you so surprised? All I've ever wanted is for the people I love to live and be happy," he says, and his voice rings with truth and just the softest bit of reluctance. The softest bit of bitterness. 

"Everyone will…they'll say…what will Harry think?"

"I'll talk to Harry. He'll understand. He…he wants you to be happy. We both do."

"I don't know what to say," she whispers, and they're both silent for a moment.

"Tell him…tell him you love him and…Hermione? Tell him you need him. Everyone wants to be needed."

"Ronnie," she gasps, and there's so much pain in her voice that the boy interrupts, silencing her.

"You're my girl, 'Mione. Always will be. We grew up together, we fought together, we lost people together, and we will damn well grow old together. Just in a different way then we thought. We'll grow old like Harry and I will grow old, and our kids will play together, and we'll have Christmas' together at Mum and Dad's and Harry and Draco will fight and Mum will whack them on the head and our children will go to school together and you'll call me up in the middle of the night because your daughter snogged my son and we'll share a heart attack and you will always belong to me just as you belong to Harry. Just as I belong to you. You're my first love, 'Mione, but we were so young and we've been through so much…"

"Ronald Weasley I will love you 'til the day I die," she whispers, and he laughs, delighted.

"Listen, Hermione Granger, I have not gone though all that just to have you throwing yourself into my arms again! I am going to go out and get completely shit-faced drunk with Harry and then see if I can't drunk call every girl in our year. …or maybe other years…Luna's been looking nice, hasn't she?"

"Ron!" she laughs.

"And I _fully_ expect you to snog the wits out of him when he wakes up. Which, according to Pomfrey, should be today, yes? Brilliant."

"Ron, I—"

"Be happy," he tells her, and there is silence as he walks away.

**iv.**

The inside of eyelids is a burning red, and part of him frowns, because he's fairly sure that that isn't right. He can feel his toes, and they ache, and his fingernails hurt, and suddenly the entire world is one blinding orange flash of pain and without thought or desire he moans.

There is movement around him, but he can't see and he can't hear and he can't focus because of the orange glare that's firing all his nerve endings and he thinks he would scream if he could remember how but then he remembers that he _can't scream, don't let them know that it hurts, stay quiet and they'll let you live you have to live don't scream don't tell them anything she'll come and fucking potter won't let you die breathe breathe don't let them know that you're hurting don't tell them anything she'll find you she'll find you goddamnit draco she'll find you stay awake stay awake don't scream_

and his eyes snap open, a mangled shout hovering on his lips as he swallows his scream and bolts up, a wave of dizziness surrounding him, eyes dark, eyes seeking through the orange flare their faces _leering waiting watching listening don't scream don't fucking scream you fucking bastard_, ears groping for their voices _laughing as he writhes on the ground tears spilling out taking bets on how long until he breaks casting curses bones snapping whip snapping don't scream don't scream wait for her she'll come don't speak never speak never speak_ and he gasps in air that isn't stale, isn't tainted with blood and death and despair and a hand grabs his, a voice repeating a word but he doesn't recognize the word or the voice or the hand and he struggles to get away, his body weak _please just some water no don't beg can't beg need water! don't beg can't beg water can wait wait for her wait for her_

"Draco!" she screams, and it's the girl, and she's holding his hand screaming the word as a woman forces something down his throat _not water not water don't let them drug me draco don't let them drug you draco it's going to hurt again _and he tries to cough it up but he can't move can't see can't hear but the orange glare is fading and the girl is holding his hand so tight and he can feel it and he can feel his knees and his elbows and the pain ebbs and

"Draco," she whispers, and she's crying and brushing the hair from his face and it's kind of nice and maybe he won't have to hurt tonight maybe he can just lay here for a while and breathe this clean air and wouldn't that be nice? _damnit draco she'll come for you just breathe just breathe just breathe don't scream just breathe_

**iv.**

He blinks his eyes open slowly. He doesn't hurt, although he aches a little, and the room he's in has a white ceiling. The air smells clean and familiar, and he slowly edges himself up. He's not chained. The white curtains around him make him smile, slowly. He recognizes the room and the faint humming of Pomfrey in the other room. His eyes slide across the blankets around his body and towards the girl sleeping in the chair, her arms and head resting on the edge of his bed. His eyes widen.

_She came._

And he realizes he didn't think she would. He wanted her to, he believed she would, he trusted her to, but he didn't think she would. _don't scream don't cry don't speak she'll come she'll come give her time she'll find you_

"Granger," he whispers, and it's been so long since he's used his voice that it sounds strange and wrong and he pretends he doesn't notice. "Hermione."

She stirs, slowly, before it clicks, and she's sleeping one moment and sitting up, awake, the next. Her eyes look up into his, and then she looks down to where her hand is still holding his and blushes.

"You're awake."

He nods, and watches her, and she looks away. "How long was I…" he pauses, and then manages a hollow, self-deprecating smile. "How long was I there?"

She tells him, and tells him how he was found and rescued and healed and what has happened, and what's going to happen and how come and she can't seem to stop but he thinks that maybe he doesn't want her to, because he doesn't know what to say or how to say it but finally he interrupts her.

"How's Weasley?"

She winces, and he worries/hopes/fears/wonders if something happened to him. But she shrugs. "He's all right. So's Harry. They came and visited you while you were out." He looks up, surprised and then curious.

"I thought…I remember talking. A…girl. You, I suppose. And…conversations." She looks embarrassed, which he thinks is curious.

"Draco, thank you for saving me," she says, and stands up abruptly. Before she can turn he grabs her hand _she'll come she'll come just breathe don't scream just breathe she'll come back for you_ and gives it a small tug. She sits on the edge of the bed, and he brushes her hair from her face.

"Hermione, thank you for saving me," he tells her, and before she can speak _don't speak_ or protest _don't talk just breathe just breathe_ he pulls her close and buries his head into the crook of her neck. "Can I scream now?" he whispers into her ear, and she grabs his hands and lets him hold her as tight as he wants, his shoulders heaving his body shaking as he sobs into her robes, strangled screams half-muffled by her body.

Pomfrey runs in but seeing them leaves quietly.

Hermione holds him until he stills, until he subsides, trembling in her arms, her hands protesting the strength of his grasp, but not moving, not moving, her voice whispering a soft stream of comfort in his ear, "It's all right, I've got you, you're safe, they're gone, they're gone, you can scream now, they can't hurt you, I've got you, you're safe, just breathe, just breathe, it's okay, just breathe," and when he finally pulls back and looks at her, eyelashes wet, pale cheeks flushed, she can feel her own tears slipping down. She leans her forehead against his and they hold each other, arms on each other's waists, waiting out the storm. 

"I knew you'd come," Draco whispers, and she smiles, soft and hesitant and he meets her eyes and _breathes _and gathers his broken pieces together and hands them to her, as hesitant as she is, as fearful as she is. They sit together and talk, and sit together and breathe, and when he wakes up in the middle of the night she's there, holding his hand, half-slumped over his body, and he breathes in the smell of her hair and clutches her to him.

**vi.**

Two voices, two footfalls enter, one hurrying, furious, the other softer, hesitating, holding the other back.

"_How could she do that to you!"_ the first growls.

"I want her to be happy," the other says simply.

"But with _him?_"

"He loves her, Harry," the second growls back, and they both fall silent for a moment.

"I know," the first whispers at last, and then sighs. "I know, but…I always thought that you two…"

"Everyone I love alive and happy," the second laughs softly, painfully. "It's a lot to ask. I've got to take what I can get."

"Ron…"

"Getting trashed helped. So did drunk-calling girls. But Harry? If you ever start singing drunkenly again I'm leaving your trashed ass in the pub, all right?"

"Maybe if you weren't_staring_ at my ass all night," the first laughs, and then yelps. "God Ron, I was joking, you didn't have to _punch_ me!"

"That's it. I'm calling Luna _tonight_."

"Should we go in?" the first grumbles, and the other one laughs. 

"I suppose."

Harry and Ron stumble in, see Hermione draped over Draco, and freeze. 

"Mnngh," Hermione mumbles, and Harry snorts and then glances guiltily at Ron. Ron concentrates on looking fine.

"Maybe we should come back later," Harry offers, and Ron nods. Together they both back out of the room.

**vii.**

"You missed your boy wonders," Draco smirks later on, when she wakes up. She blinks at him in confusion. "Potter and Weasley. They stopped by and saw us. Didn't realize I was awake and left."

"Oh," she says, and he thinks she should be more outraged or embarrassed or _something_. He tries to think of a way of asking her why she is here and what it means. _Don't speak, don't speak don't speak_

"What…why are you here?" he asks abruptly, and she looks up, startled.

"I…was waiting for you to wake up."

"And now?" he asks, and he's brusque and angry and bitter and all those things that he always was and that are now compounded and he knows he should stop_don't speak don't speak just breathe _but he can't. "I'm not some fucking pity party. You don't need to sit here out of gratitude or try to make me feel better, Granger. I'm fine, I'm fucking wonderful—why don't you run back to your fucking boys and get on with your life and leave me to mine!"

She sits there and lets his words wash over him and it makes him angrier but he doesn't know what to say or what to do _she'll come she'll come don't speak don't scream she'll find you she'll come she has to she'll come_ and she looks directly into his eyes.

"Ron broke up with me, or…I broke up with…no, we…Ron and I aren't together."

He stares at her blankly, wondering what she's talking about, forcing himself not to think, not to hope, not to _speak don't speak don't speak don't breathe_

"What does…why? What happened?"

She stares at him thoughtfully, terrified, hoping…

"We broke up so that...so that I could do this." She leans forward and his eyes darken as their lips meet.

**viii.**

Their mouths meet softly, hesitantly at first, and his eyes are dark and burning, and she meets them with her full brown eyes before they flutter closed, mouths opening slowly as his tongue traces the outline of her lips, her breath warm on his lips. His mouth captures her bottom lip and he grazes is softly with his teeth and she moans into his mouth and his hand slides behind the back of her neck, tangling in her hair and they pull each other close, so close, and they _breathe just breathe just breathe just breathe _and they hold each other and belong to each other and they find each other as their hands meet and the white ceiling and the orange pain blur and bleed into blue skies and blue horizons and blue water and no bars, no chains, no dark prisons and red blood just blue blue blue blue _freedom._


End file.
